Turning A New Leaf
by BabbityRabbitysCacklingStump
Summary: **IN-PROGRESS** Post-war, Hermione has returned to finish at Hogwarts, but without Ron and Harry. How will she survive the halls without her friends? And who might take advantage of this golden opportunity? [Rated M for language, sexual content, and lemons-to-come(pardon the pun)]
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of this fantastic story, I do not make any money from this. I'm just a lonely girl trying to write her own fantasies.**

Don't know if you guys remember me, but I used to be DanaDeranged. Due to some password issues, I've finally decided to say "fuck it" and I made a new account. So, this is my welcome back chapter. Posted before I felt like it was ready, but I wanted to get it out there so you guys can be on the look out for more quality content from me!

Love love love you all, and I hope you love the story!

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The sun had just begun to rise over the moors of Scotland, a light mist covering the ground. You could hear the cacophony emanating from the Owlery as they flew in to await breakfast deliveries. The war had been won, and it had taken a whole year to rebuild, but a great deal of wizarding families lost something irreplaceable.

Even Hogwarts castle had lost a few things. Where normally you would find suits of armor, there were empty spaces. The paintings that had been blown and ripped apart were replaced, and the strangers in their stations offered no comfort. Oh, yes, things had changed.

Hermione Granger blinked rapidly as she woke, trying to talk herself into getting out of bed. _Come on, girl! Get a grip on yourself! You've only been back a week now, it wouldn't look very good for the Head Girl to get detention, would it?_ After another few minutes of arguing with herself, and a good stretch accompanied by a yawn, she was out of bed and in the shower of her private dorm. Being Head Girl certainly had its perks, but being Hermione Granger most assuredly didn't. As she bathed, her thoughts travelled back to the war. Everything had been different since the beginning of it, even Hermione. Sure, she was still "the brightest witch of her age", and was still responsible and sensible and _tired_. Gods, she was tired. The differences in her may not be in her character, but they're definitely there. She was morose, and paranoid now. Every student turning a corner was an adversary, every first-year was a lost friend. Her breath caught in her throat when she thought about them, all those lives that could've been saved. All those lives that _should have_ been saved. She didn't allow herself to continue that particular subject, instead filling her lungs with the warm moist air of the shower, and rinsing out her hair. She stepped out, and wrapped her bathrobe around her.

It was positively dizzying to be back at Hogwarts after all that she had been through. She had berated herself when she was on the run with Harry and Ron, questioning how they had even convinced her to go. _But you left for a reason, didn't you? You left for the right reason, and thousands of lives have been saved because of you. You were one of the Golden Trio that helped bring down Voldemort. It is_ _ **perfectly acceptable**_ _for you to miss a year of schooling. Besides, they let you come back, had they not?_ She yielded to herself, which was an interesting feeling, but she wished things still felt the same as they had before she left. Harry and Ron weren't attending this year, opting instead to take a Ministry-approved exam and therefore graduating early, and both boys were determined to join the Aurors. And so they had. They were off saving the world again, _and I'm stuck here by myself._

With a sigh, she stepped out of her bathrobe, and glanced at her naked form in the mirror. There was never an absence of bewilderment when she saw herself like this, and for what seemed like the millionth time she began to trace over her scars and burns with her fingertips. Some were shallow, simple little scars that she was sure would disappear soon. Others were much more permanent, looking as if someone had carved out portions of her skin. Her hand moved to her face, and she traced the few scars at her cheek, curtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange and her dagger. She could still feel the cold blade against her skin, hear her own screams echoing off of the pristine white tiles. Swallowing the egg that had formed in her throat, she turned away from her reflection, and dressed in her uniform to head down for breakfast.

The halls seemed different now. Maybe it was simply the melancholy in her heart that made it seem strange, but Hermione had a feeling that it was loneliness settling in. The lack of friendly banter made them feel longer, and without her best friend's smiling faces they seemed dimmer. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts of her friends, and how much she was missing them, and instead focused on the friends she has that were here. She had seen Ginny, who had been delighted with Hermione's return; she had seen Neville and Luna, who had started dating after the war, to no one's surprise; Seamus and Dean, whom she was very pleased to see return; Lee Jordan, and Dennis Creevey. Among the Slytherins that had returned, Draco Malfoy was notably in attendance, along with his pug-faced companion Pansy Parkinson; Blaise Zabini, and the Greengrass sisters. Goyle had apparently decided not to attend this year, and Hermione would wager that he was still mourning the death of his closest friend.

Hermione brushed through the double doors of the Great Hall, and took a seat at what used to be the Hufflepuff table, the rules at Hogwarts had become a bit more lax since the downfall of Voldemort. Seating by house was no longer required, except on the first day to receive their schedules. Curfew was extended to eleven o'clock, and second-years were now allowed to attend on Hogsmeade trips, with the proper permission forms of course. Hermione, although loathing the extra duties as Head Girl, was otherwise quite glad that things could feel so unrestrained for these younger and new students. They would never have to experience the fear and stress and tension that she did at their age.

As she studied them, she noticed the energy crackling in the room, the excitement clear upon their bright faces. Shouts of "they've done it!" and "what _can't_ they do?!" echoed across the hall, students hurrying from here to there, speaking animatedly. Hermione, painfully confused, stared in bewilderment. _What could possibly be going on?_

As she buttered her toast, she heard a screech, and looked up just in time to see a large tawny owl drop today's printing of the Daily Prophet on her plate. She fed him a bit of dry bread, and sent him on his way, with his payment jingling on his leg. She unfolded the paper and read the headlining story. " **POTTER AND WEASLEY AT IT AGAIN"** it read, above a large portrait of Ron and Harry. Hermione smiled at the picture of her friends. Ron was smiling nervously, eyes darting to and from each side of the frame; while Harry tried to smooth out his hair, realizing too late that the picture was being taken, you only see him smile quickly, before the cycle restarted.

For the second time this morning, an egg formed in her throat as she contemplated her friends leaving her alone here. Leaving her with the ghosts of their boisterous laughter echoing through the hall. She allowed this feeling to overcome her for only a moment, and then, deciding she was being ridiculous, she swallowed hard and pushed on through breakfast.

It wasn't until breakfast was halfway over that she realized she hadn't even _read_ the rest of the article. So she pushed her plate away, and pulled up the paper.

 **POTTER AND WEASLEY AT IT AGAIN**

 **Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley have triumphed the Dark Side once again, with the official end of the "War Criminal Sweep" the Ministry of Magic had embarked on last year. The capture of Rabastan Lestrange, brother of Rodolphus Lestrange and brother-in-law to Bellatrix Lestrange, marked the last of the roaming Death Eaters attempting to avoid prosecution. Potter had spearheaded the operation, and after sixteen months of investigations and dangerous pursuits, he had only this to comment: "Im just glad that the wizarding community is safe, that the muggle community is safe. That our families are safe."**

 **Ronald Weasley seemed to share his sentiments stating simply, "The families that were impacted deserve justice. And I am more than happy to be the one to bring them to justice."**

 **Yes, Potter and Weasley are bringing peace to the wizarding world, but what of their schooling? When asked about the possibility of returning to Hogwarts, Harry only said that his time and skills could be "better employed". Weasley was a little more verbose** (Hermione allowed herself a small chuckle, Ron being described as "verbose"! What a laugh).

" **We had fun at Hogwarts, we learned so much from all of the professors, all of the students. Hogwarts will always hold a place in our hearts, but we've learned all we can learn from them. It was time to make a real difference, especially after the war. And we're going to keep making that difference."**

 **You would think the boys would want a break after bringing down Voldemort, and training to become aurors, but no such thing will happen. They seem to enjoy helping rebuild a safe community, and we couldn't be happier to have them around.**

 **Although, this does beg the question,** _ **what about Hermione Granger?**_

Hermione stared at the last sentence for a moment, wondering herself why she had chosen to return to school. But that thought was quickly tossed aside by the swelling of pride in her chest. _My boys, always the heroes._ The noise of scraping benches, and the clatter of shuffling feet, tore Hermione from her reverie. Quickly, she gathered her papers, shoved a final bite of toast into her mouth, and finished her juice; before running through the halls to make it to class.

But in her haste, she very much missed a pair of blue eyes, following her every move.

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FYI all chapter postings will be on weekends!

Please R&R! It helps me and the story!

 _ **STILL LOOKING FOR A BETA, PM IF YOU'RE INTERESTED**_


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:**

 **I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS NOR DO I MAKE ANY MONEY FROM THIS STORY**

Hey guys, I'm trying to stay on my posting schedule, so hopefully this chapter gets up on Sunday. If not, well, I tried. Okay chapter two, here we go!

Also, REALLY sorry if the narration flips from third to first person at any point. Still looking for a beta, so things will be a bit rocky for the first few chapters.

Okay, love you guys, here's the chapter.

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 _What an interesting creature,_ Draco mused as he watched Hermione sway through the Great Hall doors. He wondered to himself if she had maybe caught him staring. _She hasn't noticed in the last seven, eight years. Why start now?_

Oh, yes. Draco had been watching the fiery Gryffindor since they were children. He as endlessly fascinated with her. Fighting literally to the death for what she believed in, yet sickeningly empathetic and compassionate. An insufferable know-it-all, yet she couldn't see past the end of her nose sometimes. She was a walking contradiction, and he couldn't bear to tear himself away. Even through the war, he had studied her from afar. Her echoing laughter, her bouncing curls, her honey-colored eyes were all that kept him sane through his "mission" from Voldemort. He was absolutely smitten.

Draco pushed away from the table, and left the Great Hall with the last of the stragglers, a grim scowl on his face as a warning to stay away. He slipped through cracks in the crowd, his lean figure slithering along the halls as the Slytherin Prince should. He arrived to class a bit early, _or maybe the professor is running late this morning_. Either way he settled into his desk, and enjoyed the few minutes he had by staring out the window. It was an uncommonly nice day, for Scotland in September. The sun was shining brightly, filtering through the branches of the trees and casting happy shadows about the classroom.

Draco found himself perplexed by his post-War predicament. He still wasn't quite sure how he hadn't ended up locked in Azkaban alongside his father. Perhaps they took pity on him, thinking it was just his father poisoning him with these ideals, that he was just a child, after all. They would be right. Without the constant stress for perfection (as much as any Dark wizard was perfect), without the incessant **pressure** , he finally felt that he could be himself. Sure, he wanted to be himself, but how? How would he walk the halls? What would he do if he wasn't scowling and snarling at every passing student? Who would he be if he weren't the arrogant, entitled, self-absorbed Malfoy he had always been? He thought a certain bushy-haired girl might have an answer, as she does for everything…

A sharp voice cut through his thoughts,

"Care to join us, Mister Malfoy? Or shall I mark you as absent?"

"My apologies, Professor Vector, won't happen again." He mumbled sheepishly, pulling out a roll of parchment and a quill.

"I would hope not," Professor Vector replied tersely, and returned to her lesson.

But Draco's thoughts still lingered outside the window, and he left class with a clean sheet of parchment.

Draco sat hidden in the Great Hall for lunch. He wanted to watch her again. Wanted to try to sort out his feeling by tracing the features of her face, by eyeing the lines of her body, studying her movements. He never had any plans to **talk** to her. No, a confrontation simply wouldn't do.

Even so, Draco found himself shuffling towards her when she swept in. What amazed him was not the involuntary moving of his body, but the strange knot of fear that had settled into his gut. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, resident playboy, was intimidated by a _**girl**_. How preposterous. It was absolutely laughable. In spite of his convictions, his heart hammered in his chest as he neared her. By the time she was close enough to touch, his palms were sweaty and he could feel his face flushing a most shameful shade of pink, but he tapped her shoulder anyways.

She turned to him with no lack of shock and awe illustrated on her face. His tongue suddenly felt too large. His head became filled with a buzzing static that made his ears ring. And he just **knew** that he was staring at her like a slack-jawed Neanderthal.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She was irritated, he could tell by the way she spat out his name, as if was a boogie flavored Bertie Bott. His brow furrowed. What **did** he want? Why had he walked over here?

His mouth worked furiously, trying to find some kind of excuse.

"I, er…Uh, I wanted to…talk to you? For a moment?" _Oh, Gods, now you've done it. Now you really do have to talk to her. Nice job, you fucking dolt._

Hermione had been caught off guard, _what could Malfoy possibly have to say to_ _ **me?**_ , and was only a little frightened of what this could mean. Should she speak with him? He had tormented her for years. And now he stands in front of her, looking sincere, and a bit frightened himself, asking to talk to her?

"I…I s'pose we could step into the hall…for a moment…"

Draco fought a grin, and an ugly bubble of hope, as he followed her out. _She's going to talk to me! I can't believe that she would talk to me. Alone, even! Oh, shit, what am I going to say?_

They found a quiet alcove, away from any prying eyes, and Hermione spun to face him, her moth set in a defiant little line. Draco had to admit, it was adorable.

"Well, what did you want?"

He flushed, and stumbled over his words as he tried to find them.

"Well, I, uh, wanted to apologize?"

He saw her eyes soften just a smidge, and took this as encouragement.

"Yeah, I wanted to apologize for being such a prat all these years. You didn't deserve it, and I was so twisted up in my father's beliefs, and trying to impress him, I wasn't sure of who I was or who I wanted to be. I'm still not very sure."

That last bit of honesty surprised even Draco, and he could practically **feel** the pity rolling off of her. It was shining in her eyes, and she couldn't help it even if she wanted. Malfoy, **Draco Malfoy** , was standing in front of her, being honest, being sweet, being **sincere**. He was apologizing! _What am I supposed to say? Should I accept his apology? But if I do, how do I know that this isn't a set-up for some cruel joke? Best to do this graciously, then._

"Well, while I appreciate your candor, Malfoy, I don't think I can forgive you so easily. You can't **honestly** expect me to take anything you say seriously?"

 _Ouch, that stung,_ he thought, but he had to concede with her on that point.

"I can't say I blame you. But I can almost guarantee this will be the quietest year between us yet."

Her reply was only a breathy "I hope so" before she turned and walked away.

But something inside of him told Draco that this year would be anything **but** quiet.

The rest of the day was fairly normal. Nothing exciting happened during dinner, although Draco couldn't seem to tear his eyes off of Hermione, and he trudged to his dorm with a strange mixture of feelings fighting in his chest. _I shouldn't be so hypnotized by her. Wait, why? What's stopping you? Her blood status? As if that matters anymore. Your father isn't around to beat you for it, Aunt Bella won't even see the light of day for the rest of her life. There's literally nothing standing in your way. So what are you fighting?_

Even worse than the confusion he was facing, was the inherent shame he felt for being attracted to her. He had tormented her through all their years at school, made fun of her in the dungeons with Crabbe and Goyle, he had even told his father about her and her infuriating ways. For years, he had been dead-set on hating her, and making her life as miserable as all Mudbloods had made his. But now, now he knew the truth. Her blood meant nothing. It ran through her veins just like his, and he had learned that fateful night with his Aunt that it was just as red as his own. Maybe the source of his shame was knowing that even when his father beat him, yelling all manner of filth about Mudbloods, he didn't hate her. It was residual shame, physically beaten into his core. And there was no reversing that.

Draco climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling into the early hours of the morning, thinking of Hermione and all her witchy ways.

Hermione woke the next morning, feeling refreshed and still perturbed by yesterday's events. It was perfectly understandable, when someone like Malfoy apologized to someone like her. But it left her with an unending feeling of doubt and confusion, not to mention the **questions**. Oh, Gods, the questions. _Did he really mean it? I wonder how hes going to change now that his father isn't around. Do you think he'll try to be friends with me? Why does the thought of that make my heart beat so fast? I'm not interested in Malfoy. Can't be. No, no possible way. Although, he is incredibly attractive. Oh, stop it! He's a total arse! He treats you like mud on the bottom of his expensively hemmed pants. Yeah, but it might be different this year. He said so himself. Without his father around, maybe…Maybe? Maybe WHAT?! Maybe you could date him? You'd love that wouldn't you, you_ _ **traitor**_ _. Traitor? Me? Who, or rather what, would I be betraying? It's not like Harry and Ron are here to hassle him, or me for that matter. This is my last year at Hogwarts. My last year to make an impression. Well, then, damn it, I'm going to make an impression. One that won't be forgotten soon._

And just like that, Hermione Granger decided that she no longer wanted to be Hermione Granger. Things were going to start changing, and what better place to start than her hair? She stared in the mirror for a long minute, before raising her wand, and magically shearing her bushy curls off at the shoulder. A thinning spell here, and a quick brush there, and she barely even recognized herself. _There, that's a nice start._ What once was an unruly mass, now resembled actual hair. Hermione had to stare at herself for a moment, she touched the ends gingerly, as if trying to make sure it was real. After a few incredulous blinks, she shrugged off the initial shock and was quite happy with it.

Taking a second glance at her uniform, she thought, _go big or go home,_ and started in. She rolled up her sleeves to the elbow, unbuttoned the top three buttons, pulled her skirt up a bit so it seemed more high-waisted and showed more leg, and forewent her sweater entirely. She did a small turn in the mirror, and let the anxiety set in. She had never shown so much skin before, or at least, not at Hogwarts. And especially not after the war. She could see the scars that striped her legs, the long thin lines that were lighter than the rest of her skin. Her face hardened as she lazily traced one at the top of her thigh. _I refuse to continue to let my past dictate my future. I am not sorry for who I am, and I certainly don't pity myself for what I went through. These scars are scars of courage, of strength, and sacrifice. They may define my character, but they will NOT define my life._ She very resolutely nodded to herself, and slipped into her school robe, leaving it open of course, and defiantly stomped off towards breakfast.

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Okay, things are picking up a bit now, plot-wise. I hope you guys all enjoyed the new chapter. Please please R&R it makes me a better writer.

As for my posting schedule, its all weekends. Any new chapter will be posted Fri-Sun, even if the chapter is done on Tuesday, it wont be posted until Friday. This is mostly because my fiance is on Steam for most of the night, which, as any writer knows, is the best time for inspiration to strike. That and I need ample time to make sure that I feel the chapter has a finished feel to it, but I like them to end at a natural point, and sometimes that means writing more, sometimes it means editing the chapter I already have written. Either way, all updates are on weekends.

Ok I really don't have much more to add.

Have a good weekend, readers!

 _ **STILL LOOKING FOR A BETA, PM IF YOU'RE INTERESTED**_


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF ITS SOUL-TOUCHING ELEMENTS**

Alright, chapter three! Sorry that its coming so late, a lot of things have been going on and its been really stressful. I wish I could give you more, but right now my head and heart aren't much in it. I should be back on track in a week or two.

Anyways, things get a lil steamy in this chapter, nothing real hot and heavy just yet, but I figured fair warning was in order. And, if you ignored my warning in the summary, heed my warning now. _THIS STORY GETS VERY LEMONY._ _ **VERY LEMONY**_.

Ok, now you've all been properly warned.

Let's get on with it!

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Draco's attention was called away from his fried potatoes and eggs by the wolf-whistles and catcalls that filled the Great Hall. His head snapped up, and he craned to see over the heads of the overly-excited students. And, oh boy, did he _see_.

His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline when Hermione came into sight. Draco had never seen her look like this. All… _sexy_. Her hair was the first thing he noticed, it no longer curled along the small of her back, but bounced around her shoulders and framed her face quite nicely. He dragged his gaze down the rest of his body and, if it were even possible, his brows went even further up his forehead. Between the gap in her shirt that he knew from experience meant an unbuttoned blouse, and the tanned and toned legs that seemingly went to her ears, it was a knockout for Draco.

Even more than her outfit, was the delightfully determined look set on her face. Her eyes were burning with ferocity, and the casual yet no-nonsense sway of her walk both aroused and scared him. He physically wasn't able to redirect his stare, and felt a stirring in the bottom of his gut. He nearly couldn't breathe, and had to grab his bag and run before he truly embarrassed himself. _Dear Gods! Theres no way that was Granger! That was a walking daydream! Am I dreaming?_ He pinched himself hard, just to make sure. But when he jumped, and didn't wake up in bed, he almost fainted. _HOW am I supposed to ignore_ _ **that?**_ _How is anyone?! Walking into breakfast looking like a sex-kitten. What has gotten into her?_

Draco walked back to his dormitory, and sat on the bed with his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes forcefully as if he were trying to press the image of Hermione onto the inside of his eyelids. He decided to try for a cold shower, hoping that might cool his boiling blood, but to no avail. _I guess I'll be missing my classes today, Heavens forbid I walk past_ _ **her**_ _in the halls._ He fell back into his bed, covering his face with his arm, and tried to think of anything but running his hands under her skirt, up her thighs, brushing against her- _ **STOP**_ _RIGHT THERE._ _We'll be having none of that right now. We'll be lucky if we ever do…_ Draco groaned as the thought crossed through his mind. He had almost forgotten that she hated him, his body had forgotten entirely, but he hadn't. He knew in his heart of hearts that there was no chance for him, not even a small one. Not only had he stood by while she was tortured, he had actively tried to kill her in the Room of Requirement not even two years ago.

 _Theres got to be something I can do, some way to make it right._ He shook his head with resignation sinking in his chest. He knew that there wouldn't be a "quick fix" to this problem. He couldn't charm her, or buy her forgiveness and love. This wasn't Pansy he was talking about. This was Hermione fucking Granger, the Gryffindor princess. He exhaled loudly and dragged a hand through his hair lethargically. What a colossal fucking headache this was all turning out to be. He should've just stared from a distance like he had been for years, it was a perfect arrangement. _Now you've gone and mucked it all up. Genius, mate. Genius._

His head snapped towards the sound of a soft knock at his door. He glanced at the clock, it was nearly lunch, and slipped on a pair of pajama pants to open the door. All of his thinking stopped when he was greeted by the same golden eyes that haunted him. He managed a thick and drawn out "yeees?", before she launched into her breathless monologue.

"I need you to cover a third-year detention later. I have a meeting with McGonagall, or else I would be supervising, but it's apparently quite important that I attend. I hate to ask you, especially like this, knocking on your door and all. But I couldn't find you anywhere between classes and none of the prefects had seen you so I figured I would just stop by and see if you were here, which you are. I could've just posted it on the Prefects board, but I guess I didn't think about that until now, I'm sorry."

Hermione was surprised at how hard her heart was hammering against her ribs, at how difficult she was finding it to breathe. She supposed it didn't help that she was greeted by his chest, smooth and pale, as if it were carved out of moonlight. Or the cotton pants that were barely clinging to his hips. _I bet it wouldn't take much effort to tug those pants off of him…Ugh! Stop doing that!_ When she finally managed to raise her eyes back to his, they were filled with amusement, a small smile hanging off the corners of his lips. Her mouth went dry, and for the first time, Hermione became speechless. Sure, Draco was undeniably attractive, but she never expected herself to actually be attracted to him. And then, standing here, his hair still tousled and damp from a shower, his ice-blue stare burning through her, his ever-crooked smile suddenly directed at her. It was like magic.

"Sure, I can cover a detention later. But you'll owe me, Granger." His smile turned into a smirk at the thought. How great it would be to have Granger owe him something? There was a bit of fear in Hermione's eyes, but that only served to embolden him.

"O-Owe you?", Hermione stuttered, thoroughly bewildered by the idea, "owe you for duties that you should do anyways? That you _would_ do anyways? You're absolutely barmy! I'll have a prefect do it, don't worry about it, _Malfoy_." She spat out his name as if it were week old steak and kidney pie. Draco's brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could even open his mouth to respond, she had turned on her heel and stalked back down the hallway. He had only been joking, how was he to know she would take it so…so… _ **seriously?**_ _Oh, come on. We both knew that would piss her off. That's half the reason you said it! You can't lie to yourself, mate. You love pissing her off, and you always have._ Draco sighed to himself and sat on the corner of his bed, head hanging. How in the hell was he supposed to make her like him? How was he even supposed to spark her interest? She despised him, his family, and everything they stood for.

 _There's got to be something…_

* * *

Hermione's shoulders sagged as she left the library. She had asked Dennis Creevey to take the detention, and after a bit of groaning, he accepted his fate. At this point, all of the prefects knew better than to argue with her, she would get what she wanted one way or another. With that small bit of business taken care of, she headed towards the Headmistress' office. McGonagall hadn't said what she wanted to discuss, but there was a hint of light in her eyes when she asked to speak with Hermione. _It's probably just another task that's being shoved on me, because heavens knows Draco can't get anything done._ Irritation flooded her when his name crossed her thoughts. She couldn't wrap her head around him. He hates her, he doesn't. He wants to make peace, and then he acts like a total arse. It was like tossing a coin, every time they met, like he couldn't make up his mind on how he wanted to treat her. But Hermione honestly couldn't decide which was worse, him being nice to her, or him treating her like he had their whole lives. _What a colossal fucking headache._

Reaching the gargoyle, she shook her head clear of Malfoy and put on her best Head Girl look, she gave the password and climbed the stairs slowly. It was certainly strange to be going this way to see McGonagall. The last time she had climbed these stairs was with Harry and Ron, to see Dumbledore… With a great huff of air she did her best to put those thoughts out of her mind as well. The door of the office was open wide, and Hermione timidly shuffled across the room to stand in front of the desk. It seemed that McGonagall had tried not to change the office too much, attempting to keep the air of Dumbledore alive in the castle. Hermione was reminiscing fondly on the old Headmaster, when a door opened behind the desk(although, she never would have guessed it a door, it looked like the rest of the stone walls that surrounded her), and McGonagall swept into the room. When her eyes met with Hermione's new image, they widened.

"Well, now! Miss Granger, I hardly recognized you. I suppose it _was_ time for a bit of change, hm?"

"I've come to the conclusion that it was time to take control of my own life, Professor. Its been long enough that I've focused on other people."

"I quite agree Miss Granger."

"And, if I may Professor, I quite like what you've done the office. Or, should I say, _haven't_ done?"

"Ah, yes. Well, I wouldn't want Dumbledore to be forgotten. One of the best Headmasters Hogwarts has seen. And it seems to calm the younger students. Makes me seem a bit…softer."

Hermione chuckled lightly, and McGonagall gave a small sad smile, waving her into one of the chairs across from her. The headmistress laced her finger together and pursed her lips, trying to ignore the small echo of an ache in her chest at the mention of her oldest friend. Hermione sat with her ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap, the perfect picture of a respectful young woman. McGonagall knew she had chosen the right student for this job.

"Now, Miss Granger. It has been decided by the Heads of House, the Board, and myself, that a ball shall be thrown in honor of the resumed school year. After the fear that Hogwarts would not open again, it would be a great display of the confidence the students and staff have in this school, and in one another. It was my decision, and my decision alone, as to who would oversee project, and I have elected that it be you. Do you think you can manage a task this large?"

McGonagall looked at Hermione pointedly over the edge of her glasses, and Hermione drew in a breath. Could she manage? Obviously, not on her own. But would she be able to handle all of the pressure? That was the bigger question that begged an answer. Hermione wasn't quite sure, if she was being truthful, that she would be able to take on such a task. There was food, and dress code, and decorations, music, and lord only knew what else. It probably didn't help that Hermione had never thrown a ball in her life, and the only one she had attended was the Yule Ball in fifth year. There was a slight whooshing in her ears as she realized that no, she wouldn't be able to manage this.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall was still waiting for an answer. And it took effort, but Hermione took another deep breath and spoke slowly and softly.

"I appreciate your belief in me, Professor, but I'm not entirely sure that I would be able to accomplish this. I don't think I have the right qualifications, or experience, to pull this off."

"And if I appointed a partner? Someone who perhaps had a bit more experience? Would you be able to work with them on this project?"

"Well…I suppose I could…"

"Then its all settled!" McGonagall clapped her hands, wrote a note, and sent it flying out the window. "This will just take a moment."

Hermione nodded and turned slightly in her chair, so she could see the doors better, waiting for her partner. There was no real way of telling who it would be, there were plenty of students who have attended balls, plenty of them have had balls thrown by their family. Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Draco…Hermione desperately prayed that it wouldn't be him walking through those doors. _Please,_ _ **anyone**_ _but Draco_.

She could hear steps echoing through the corridor outside, as someone climbed the stairs, and Hermione's heart sped up. _Please, please, please, anyone but him..._ She heard the steps stop in front of the door, and the small click of the handle being turned. She inhaled sharply as the door creaked and cracked open. As the figure came into view, Hermione's eyes rolled, and frustration and anxiety flooded through her.

 _Of course. Go figure. Fucking hell, I'm not going to survive this…_

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I hope you guys liked it! Please R&R, it makes me a better person on the inside.

Next chapter should(god willing) be up this weekend, and then my normal posting schedule will resume. Again, I'm reeeeeally sorry for the delay. But, things are starting to get moving again, so all should be well.

 _ **STILL LOOKING FOR A BETA PLS PM IF INTERESTED**_


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, okay, so sorry for the looooong delay on the chapter. I've had a lot of personal stuff going on, and then I thought I lost all of my writing, but it was on a flash drive that was in the back of a drawer. And here we are. I'm gonna try to make this chapter a little extra long, to make up for the wait.

Alright, now!

Shall we get on with it?

* * *

Draco smirked when he left McGonagall's office. How delightfully evil it was to pair him to Hermione. But, on the other hand, it was awfully opportunistic for him. Draco would have to spend large amounts of time with the object of his desire, alone, and talking about a ball. It was equal to planning an engagement party or, at least, Draco's engagement party. It was unbelievably lucky, almost too lucky, and he kept looking for a catch. But there really didn't seem to be one. He had been planning parties like this since he was six(it was a requirement with his mother, which drove him crazy), he could practically throw the entire thing together in his sleep. **And** , Hermione would have to talk to him. Converse. Exchange words. Share ideas. He would have to find a way to control himself, with her looking like a damn Veela, but he was sure he could do that.

Walking back to his private dorm, he began to hear faint sounds of music and raucous laughter seep through the halls. His Head Boy senses were tingling, and he decided to investigate. It surprised him to discover that the source of the noise was his own house's common room. He scanned the mass of students from the doorway, searching specifically for Blaise, and found him leaning against a pillar at the far side of the room. They met eyes, which was easier to do considering both of them stood at a towering 6'3, and strolled casually towards each other.

"Blaise, what the fuck mate? A party? Seriously? Are we still fourteen?" Draco tried to pass it off as a joke, but Blaise could tell from the look in his eyes that the questions were real.

"Ah, you know how it is. They're just trying to blow off a little steam. I honestly don't see the harm in it, just like I didn't when we were fourteen." He threw a crooked smirk, and patted Draco on the shoulder. Draco scowled for a moment before speaking again,

"Aren't you a prefect? You're supposed to be stopping this shit. And instead you decide to turn the other cheek?"

Blaise sent a question back, "Mate, whats got your panties in a bunch? You used to love getting sauced and fighting and being an all around jackass. Why are you acting like this?"

"'Acting like this'? What, you my girlfriend now? Just put an end to this shit so I don't have to, because I will hand a detention to every student in Slytherin."

Draco turned on his heel, deciding all on his own that the conversation was done, and stalked out of the common room. He hated to admit it, but Blaise was right. Something was different. Draco could no longer stand the bliss of ignorant youth, he had lost his taste for it. Admittedly, the war had changed everyone, it had taken something out of each and every witch and wizard in Britain.

 _Apparently, it took your sense of fun, Mr. Malfoy. What a tragedy._ Draco tossed his head slightly, and chuckled at himself. Of course he was fun, how could he not be? _Well, you're the son of a convicted mass murderer, and admitted Death Eater. That certainly can put a damper on things._ He told himself to shut up, and clattered into his dorm room. There were much more important things to think about right now, like Hermione Granger, and the way her bronzed thighs glittered in the afternoon sun. The way her hips swung, and how her breasts bounced with each swaying step. _Dear God, man! Quit doing that, or you wont get ANY sleep. Get it together._ Draco took a deep breath, and turned to his window, gazing at the moon streaming onto the cobblestone floor, until he finally drifted to sleep.

Hermione had hardly noticed the stares that followed her throughout the past couple days. She had been much to occupied with trying to deal with Malfoy. Something wasn't quite right about him, about the way he had been acting. He was being more than just civil, he was actually being _nice._ Pulling out her chair, answering her questions without being a prat, he even helped pick up her things when she knocked over her bag. But the worst part, was that she was actually beginning to enjoy his company. Draco was terribly bright, even if she hated it, and planning extravagant parties seemed to come naturally to him. Well, as naturally as any millionaire child. But even Hermione had to admit, he was a bit of a heartthrob. Corn-silk hair, icy blue eyes, a dazzling smile, along with a dazzling wit, and gods was he charming. Not that she would ever say any of this out loud, he was still a ferret mind you, but it was good to know that there was a _human_ side.

Hermione blinked rapidly as she extracted herself from her thoughts. As much as she enjoyed Professor Binns' class, she couldn't seem to stay focused. She couldn't even manage to take any notes with how much her mind was wandering. It was uncharacteristic of her, and it made her very uncomfortable. The rest of the period was spent playing catch-up, but by the end, she was still behind.

She took her time leaving; packing her bag carefully, pushing in her chair, helping to stack the textbooks. She was dreading her meeting with Malfoy, mostly out of fear of embarrassing herself one way or another, but partially because she was actually _enjoying the time with him_. Another out of character move for Hermione, and she simply didn't want to deal with it. So, she dragged her feet. Dawdling on the way to dinner, eating slowly, taking the long way to the library, perusing the shelves before meandering over to the study cubbies.

Malfoy was at the farthest table, lazily twisting a quill around his fingers and staring at the floor. The pensive look on his face made Hermione pause for a moment, she felt a small tug in the middle of her chest, and did her best to ignore it. Stepping up to the table, she cleared her throat and got his attention. Apparently his _full_ attention, as she didn't miss the quick up-and-down he gave her, but she did miss another tug in her stomach.

"Malfoy." She addressed him coldly, hoping to keep up the façade of disgust. But he responded with a cocky grin, and broke her confidence.

"Evening, Granger. Care to sit? Or would you rather stand for two hours?"

She huffed, and dropped into the chair next to him, immediately scooting a few inches away, and hefted her bag onto the table with a loud thud.

"My Gods, Granger. Are you hiding the missing half of the castle in there? That's got to be awfully heavy, although with the way you carried Potty and Weaselbee, I s'pose you can handle it." He shot a shit-eating grin at her scowl, and scooted in to close the small space between them. Hermione's scowl turned into a grimace, and she shivered slightly at the closeness.

"Can we get on with this? I have loads of reading to do tonight, and I'd rather not waste the little time that I have."

"Of course, princess. Your wish is my command."

 _I guess Draco's trying on being a sarcastic arse this time. In his stupid expensive dragonhide shoes, with his stupid hair looking perfect…ly stupid. Wow, I can't even insult him the same way anymore. What the hell is happening to me?_

Draco was busy digging through his book bag for the notes he had taken last week, so Hermione snuck a quick glance at him from the corner of her eye. She simply couldn't comprehend their situation anymore. At the beginning of the year he had promised to leave her alone, change his ways, "the quietest year yet" and all that. So, why was she inherently attracted to him? And why now? She was almost sure that she didn't have any dormant or hidden feelings for him, he had never been her type(she obviously went for the rather dull muscle-heads instead of the more intelligent), AND she had punched him square in the face in third year. She had called him a "foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach"! Surely that isn't the same person who makes her mouth go dry, makes her heart beat a little faster, it just couldn't be.

"…Hello? Hermione?"

Hearing her name roll off of his tongue brought her out of her thoughts, quite abruptly, and her head snapped towards his. Their eyes locked for a moment, just a moment, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"Oh…" The sound escaped her before she realized it, and Draco stared at her quizzically. Quickly, with a blush spreading across her face, she began pawing through her own bag for notes, grateful that he hadn't asked her any questions directly.

Within a short few minutes they were both solely focused on the task at hand, discussing the theme and look of the ball.

"I can understand your point, Granger, but I feel like using the house colors would be a bit expected, a bit… _lame_ , if I may. We should try to use more neutral colours, or different shades at the very least."

"That could work…Or we could do the whole thing in white, make it a 'black tie affair'. It won't piss off any houses, or teachers for that matter, it'll still look classy, and our jobs planning will be a lot easier."

"Well, well. Beauty AND brains, who knew?"

Hermione smiled at the subtle joke, until she caught up to the fact that he had just called her beautiful. Once it sank in, she found it much harder to breathe than she had before.

"Okay, so 'black tie affair'. Right. What about the look of it? Usually with balls, you want to evoke an emotion as soon as they walk in the room. Do we want them to feel happy, or calm, or excited? Do we just want everyone to 'ooh' and 'aah' at the decorations, or do we want the purpose of the ball to be the focus?"

"Well, I, uh…I think that the purpose should be the, er, focus of the event. Whats the point of a unity ball, if we aren't, well…unified?" Hermione was surprised that she could speak, even if it was a stuttered and squeaky. She just hoped Draco didn't notice.

The rest of the meeting went on with plenty of debate, and moments of playful banter, and Draco couldn't have been more pleased with himself. Laying back in bed, he smiled, and and let his thoughts drift. An image of Hermione and him fluttered at the corners of his mind. They were holding hands over steaming cups of cocoa in Madam Puddifoot's, she was laughing, and he watched her with humor shining in his own eyes. Snowflakes twisting in the breeze.

His smile turned sad, and, like every night, he looked to the stars. It's not that he was an astronomy freak, like the Patil twins, but there was something in the skies that connected with him. He could feel that there were answers, if he only knew how to find them.

Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and closed his eyes. It was amazing how much thinking you could avoid by going to sleep.

Hermione was quite happy when she awoke the next morning, though with no discernible cause. The weather had turned grey, the excitement that began the first month slowly trickled into simple ambiguity, and the cold bite of winter was approaching. But, she woke with a smile and a kitten-like stretch and mewl, looking forward to a good Saturday. She decided to forego the shower, and instead curled up on her windowsill and opened a book.

She was thoroughly engrossed in her reading, when a slight tapping at the window caused her to shoot upright, and on her feet. After a second of trying to bring down her heart rate, and a good laugh at herself, she opened the latch and let in a small school owl. It held out it's leg for her to detach the parcel, and then turned up it's head for a treat. Hermione smiled at it, handed it a few treats, and stroked its head for a moment before the owl hooted once, and flew off. _How charming it would be to be a bird. To take flight, and glide above all of this wonderful land. To sing with the trees, soar with the sun. To not have a care in the world. How i wish...Oh! I have a letter!_

She studied the envelope closely, and couldn't place the handwriting. Ron's was much like chicken scratch, and Harry's had a tendency of being squished together, but the precise calligraphy that her name had been drawn in made her feel uneasy. She opened it with a careful touch, hoping that whatever was inside wouldn't hex her. All that slipped out was a piece of parchment, which skittered across the floor, giving Hermione a good chase.

She stared at the parchment, almost afraid to read what it said. Her greatest fear was that it might tell her Ron or Harry had died, the second fear was that she was being replaced as Head Girl. After a small panic attack, she told herself that there was never a more ridiculous thought, and put it out of her mind. Determined, she sat down to read it.

 _ **Hermione,**_

 _ **I know that you may be wondering who the sender is, but I think I'll hold on to that small piece of information, for now. All you should know is that I love you. It's been hard for me to admit something like this, but I finally found a way to tell you without losing everything I have. I love you. I love the way your hair looks in the sunlight, I love the way your nose crinkles in disapproval, I love the quiet huff you make in frustration. You're so absolutely beautiful to me, every idiosyncrasy, every contradiction in your personality, every smile, and move you make.**_

 _ **I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't love you the way I do, especially knowing that you would never share the same feelings. But, I can't help it. I can't help the sense of hope and happiness that you give me. Even though you hate me, you've helped me through so much, and I dont think you even realize.**_

 _ **So, as a token of my gratitude, be in the greenhouse at 10 PM sharp.**_

 _ **And yes, it is a surprise.**_

 _ **Faithfully,**_

 _ **your Secret Admirer.**_

Hermione blinked at the letter, not fully comprehending the words. She gave herself a moment, read it again, and still didn't understand. _How could I have an admirer? That doesn't make sense. What could they possibly have to lose? What did I help them through? And how are they so sure I hate them? I just don't understand any of this. "Token of my gratitude", well, seemingly everyone is grateful towards me, I had apparently "saved the world". I'm not so sure about this. Do I trust a total stranger?...Maybe I'll just give it a peek, I won't go in. No, I won't go in._

Hermione had finally made up her mind, and spent most of the day anxiously staring at her watch. Lunch seemed to drag on forever, with everyone trying to talk to her. She started to get dizzy trying to separate her thoughts from the environmental chatter. Dinner seemed to take longer, even with Hermione rushing through her food. She barely tasted dessert, exasperatedly picking at her treacle tart, questioning exactly how long an hour even _is._ At nine-thirty, Hermione was done waiting. _Maybe showing up early will give me a chance to see who it is._ She knew she was bargaining with herself, but she couldn't help it.

The trip to the greenhouse felt as long as it ever had, the halls more daunting than in the Battle. But still, Hermione carefully put one foot in front of the other, and soon enough stood ten-feet from the doorway. She leaned into the corner of a window slowly, and saw nothing but the moon's shadow playing with the plants. She took a tentative step closer, with no reaction from anything inside. _It seems safe enough,_ she mused, her foot toying with the doorway. _**But we both know better than that, don't we?**_ So, Hermione turned and grabbed a stone, tossing it into the greenhouse. When she heard nothing but the pebble's tinkling echo, she managed a breath and took a step inside, stopping to let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

For the first few moments, she didn't see anything. Which was more than a little startling, considering she hadn't seen anyone arriving or leaving. Hermione placed another careful step forward, paused, _maybe give it just another second,_ heard nothing, saw nothing, and took another step. It wasn't until her full weight was down, but it made her jump back all the same. It started as just a blinking, twinkling light that danced in front of her; until that one light split into two, and two into four, and so on and so forth. Until Hermione was standing in the middle of what seemed to be hundreds of dancing lights, all of them bouncing nearly jubilantly, darting through her hair, playing with the hem of her robe. Hermione giggled, a child-like giggle full of amusement and joy, and she couldn't help the beaming smile that soon overtook her features. She spun in a wide circle, arms out, like she remembered doing as a little girl, and let the lights dance with her. There was no music playing, Hermione knew that full well, but she heard it all the same. High notes being precisely played on a piano, the subtle hum of the violins, the carrying ethereal sound of the flutes. It was like she had found a place of sanctuary, where the War hadn't affected her, before she knew what "mudblood" meant, before her life went topsy-turvy.

She hadn't been able to enjoy the small nuances of life in a very long time, and to be able to escape for a moment, and find beauty again, was almost pure bliss. And she reveled in it.

Draco watched silently from just outside the window, his heart pumping with... _whatever_ feeling this is, and felt almost at peace as well. Seeing her happy, even if for only a few moments, was something very dear to him. Especially after all the brutality she had faced, even the brutality he had put her through himself. But, there was nothing that could compare to what he felt when she smiled. That big, wide grin that broke down every wall he had taken so much care to place. His heart fluttered a bit at the thought that he was the reason for that smile, even if she would never know, because it was hope that maybe things weren't as hopeless as they seemed.

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I hope you all enjoyed! I'm pretty excited to be working on this again, and I can't wait to bring you all on this fun journey through my weirdness.

As always, please review. I need the love, I need the criticism.

Stay beautiful.


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